


1990

by foundCarcosa



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-18
Updated: 2013-11-18
Packaged: 2018-01-01 23:32:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1049878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foundCarcosa/pseuds/foundCarcosa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fated year in which Germany came back for his own, and Russia lost more than just a territory.<br/>[Past Work]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1990

Sickly afternoon sunlight trickled through the skeletal remains of the forest; the layers of pillowy snow that had fallen the night prior had hardened. Ivan's boots made satisfying crunching sounds as he trudged, thick arms laden with provisions from the nearest general store. Wispy strands of his hair flicked across his vision, and occasionally the ends of his long beige scarf would whip around and slap at his face as if in admonishment. This wind did not sing through the trees' naked branches; this wind was only perceptible to the easily-tossed. This wind was lying in wait, knowing a force stronger than it was due.

Ivan attempted to hum a little, but his voice was hoarse and insubstantial after breathing such thin air. He sighed, breath gusting from a reddened nose, and squinted ahead of him. He could see his home, much smaller than the ones to which he'd been accustomed -- that had been all he'd asked. To finally live the way he wished to live, away from Moscow, away from spires and screens with their flickering, numbing images and roads clogged with automobiles.  
He had stopped asking for warmth long ago. If not warmth, then isolation would do. It would do.

His lumbering steps faltered as violet eyes narrowed; that shape did not belong on this landscape. A humanoid shape, slightly tilted as it leaned against the side of Ivan's dwelling. Its posture suggested it believed it belonged there.  
No one belonged in Ivan's forest. Especially not at this time of year, when the weak sun would set unnaturally early, bowing out of the implied battle for dominance. Had he not told them all...? _Do not bother me when the calendar's page turns. Be aware; January belongs to_ him.

The figure straightened as Ivan neared, and a rich blue hue cut through the dim fog. That uniform. Ivan knew it well.

" _Prussiya._ What are you doing?"

The benign tone belied nothing, but Ivan's skin had grown tight around him. Had his arms not been occupied, he would have attempted to touch Gilbert when he was within reach -- a gloved hand cupped around the back of his skull, perhaps, or a firm squeeze of his uniformed shoulder. Gilbert was one to whom he could never hold on. Gilbert was one for whom he sometimes bled... and Ivan bled for no one save Winter.

The smirk tried to assert its dominance over Gilbert's thin, cruel lips, but faltered almost immediately and fell away. "Came to see you, is all."

Ivan's scarf whipped with a bit more insistence; the folds drew a little tauter around his neck. "No, that is not all."

Gilbert cleared his throat, raising his hand to rub at the back of his exposed neck. "You _are_ going to let me in, aren't you?"

"You know you are not supposed to be here. I will come for you after--"

"Yeah, see, that's what I came to talk to you about," Gilbert interrupted in a tone that he usually reserved for those times when Ivan advanced upon him with an unclasped coat and a smile he'd saved for the occasion. "You... we can't... ahem..."

Ivan waited, patiently, arms growing weary and feet growing numb in the snug boots. But try as he might, Gilbert couldn't seem to finish his statement.  
Sensing the need for encouragement, the Russian took a couple of deliberate steps towards the smaller male. "What can't we do?"

"Jesus, Ivan, I'm trying to tell you." This agitation... Ivan had assumed they'd gotten past this. "Haven't you been paying attention? You know what happened earlier this year. No one's the same -- not Elizabeta, not Feliks, not you. It's a new era, Ivan! I'm not forgotten! I'm not your occasional possession! _Mein Bruder_ and I, we're to be one again!"

Ice crystals were starting to form on Ivan's eyelashes and the ends of his hair; the whistling of wind underscored the reedy sound of Gilbert's voice. The Russian's heart always beat slowly, but it was steadily growing slower. Through all this, and the icicle-sharp sting of Gilbert's words, he merely stood with his arms full of groceries and gazed steadily at the German.

The _German,_ for Ludwig was calling him back. After nearly half a century of biding his time, Ludwig was finally calling him back.

" _Da,_ of course, _Prussiya_..."

"That is not my name. That hasn't been my name since..."

"Come in, Gilbert. We shall..."

_"Nein."_

Ivan's head tilted slightly; had he already forgotten making that very request only minutes ago? Perhaps this was his way of showing that whatever Ivan wanted would always be contrary to what Gilbert wanted. And Gilbert had never wanted him.  
Just like Ludwig, who had tolerated the touch of icy hands and the stunted affection Ivan had offered... tolerated, but never accepted.

"Then I will see you--"

"You'll see me when you'll see me." Gilbert's chin tilted upwards incrementally. "Me, and Ludwig. On the other side of the table."

A peculiar but all-too-familiar warmth oozed through Ivan's chest, a stark contrast. His voice remained soft and impassive. _"Prussiya..."_

The brittle chuckle merged with the crackling of ice as it formed under Ivan's feet and began to branch out with spidery fingers. "Should have known you wouldn't even blink. Maybe you're the same after all." Words flung over proud shoulders as Gilbert's feet carried him away. The warmth had evolved into heat, and Ivan's breath grew laboured. " _Prussiya. Lyubimy._ You... you will not walk away... from me..."

The wind took the broken command and tossed it like so many embers, taking the bite from them and extinguishing what little desperation they carried. Ivan hadn't noticed, but the sickly sun had given up its halfhearted attempt at illumination. A ghost of a pained grimace passed over the Russian's pronounced features; a cabbage head thudded on the hard snow and rolled a short distance away only to be joined by many more sundry items. Ivan's freed hands clapped over his breast as if attempting to hold something in as he slowly sank to his knees.

_"Winter."_

Whether the gasped word was a plea or an acknowledgement was beyond even Ivan's ken. But he almost wept when he felt those unfathomably cold hands curl around his own and tug them away. Winter's fingers reached into the searing heat and squeezed, and Ivan slid into unconsciousness with those words in his mind and his ruint heart;

_I warned you, Rossiya. Love, but do not be consumed. Want, but do not need. Take, but do not give..._

_\--_

Ludwig's ice-blue eyes seemed to have no issue in holding Ivan's; that was, until they were alone.  
Away from the expectations and silent judgements of the boardroom, Ludwig's fair skin flushed and his muscles twitched; he knew the implications. He knew the look of reproach in Ivan's eyes, because it wasn't the first time.

"Why are you so restless? I have given you what you wanted, have I not?"

"Yeah... yeah, no, we're very satisfied with the outcome. Really." The German's clipped voice and the reflexive clearing of his throat at the end of his statement did not go unnoticed by Ivan.

"And you have Gilbert. You should be very happy, Ludwig." A tone of admonishment, for Ivan was reproachful. Perhaps Ludwig did not realise how well he had it, in comparison to Ivan. In comparison to the one who would never let on.

"No, I am. I am. We are all... grateful, and happy. _Ja_." Speaking for the others, for the others had all departed. Gilbert had loudly declared his hunger shortly after the proceedings ended, and disappeared before Ivan could turn his icy violet gaze on him. "And you... you know, now you've only got yourself to worry about, and I guess your sisters. That should be... relieving, yeah?"

Ivan gazed steadily at the German until he cleared his throat. And then he smiled, that smile that Ludwig could never erase from his dreams. _"Da."_

Just himself, and Natalya and Katyusha. Indeed.  
For Winter had vowed to be shorter next year. And perhaps even shorter the year after...


End file.
